


Scales

by hit_the_books



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Age Difference, All sex in human form, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Bottom Dean Winchester/Top Sam Winchester, Dean is centuries old, Dragon Dean Winchester, First Time, Implied Mpreg, M/M, Mage Sam Winchester, Minor Character Death, Minor Character Death - Lucifer, Prince Sam Winchester, Sam Winchester's First Time, Sexual Content, Unrelated Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester, sam is 18, slick
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-21
Updated: 2020-10-21
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:09:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 16,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27061714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hit_the_books/pseuds/hit_the_books
Summary: Dragons are just something in books and tapestries.Until they're not and one, green-eyed, Dean Greenscale is Sam's only hope of getting his family and kingdom back.
Relationships: Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester
Comments: 9
Kudos: 307
Collections: Wincest Big Bang 2020





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Woo! This once upon a time was meant to be a short fic for the SMPC that grew plot and feelings, and made it completely unsuitable for the Sunday Morning Porn Club.
> 
> But I held onto what I'd drafted and realized this year it would be nice to finish it for the Wincest BB. So, here we are.
> 
> Thanks to my amazing artist, twobrothersfuckingeachother, for their amazing art. [You can check out their art post here](https://twobrothersfuckingeachother.tumblr.com/post/632603597996212224/art-post-for-hitthebooksposts-wincest-big-bang).
> 
> Thanks to the mods for running another amazing round.
> 
> And thank you to my beta reader [GigiS89](https://archiveofourown.org/users/GiGiS89) for looking my story over.
> 
> So, here's my fic. I hope you enjoy it. See you in the comments.

“I don’t need a chaperon,” Sam griped as another pin was stuck between the swathes of cloth being pinned to him for his eighteenth birthday celebration. A ball that would be the most extravagant the kingdom had seen in decades. Not since the King and Queen married had there been such a soiree planned.

Prince Samuel, as Sam was called by his servants and other members of the court not in his immediate family, was rarely one for parties. But chaperoned? That just made things a great deal less enjoyable and for it to be happening for the celebration of him becoming a man? Truly and utterly detestable.

“You will allow Ketch to stay by your side on the night and that’s that.” Queen Mary crossed her arms, jaw taut. Blonde hair trailing down past her shoulders, she was wrapped in a dressing robe and on the verge of getting ready for the day.

“Mother, I can look after myself. If any guest or riff-raff was to try something, I would just-”

“Cast a spell. Look, son, you can’t just use magic to solve all of your problems. To take so brazenly of your gift has consequences.”

“So if I was in real danger, I should do nothing to protect myself?! Not a single spell or charm?!” Sam shot back.

“Yes, of course. I was just saying that-”

“Mother, truly, I can protect myself.” Sam caught Mary’s eye and tried to look at her, eyes open and honest, to show that he had the strength and the will to take care of himself.

Mary sighed, arms tightening across her chest. A look passed over her face and Sam knew then she wasn’t telling him something.

“Please, for my peace of mind, allow Ketch to stay at your side for the duration of the ball.”

Sam let out a long breath and then winced, as a needle pricked his right buttock. He had moved however, and said nothing to the tailor who was just doing his job. “For you peace of mind, mother, I will allow Ketch to stay by my side.”

“Thank you. Now, don’t forget that Master Singer expects to see you once you are done here. Just because you are coming of age, does not mean you get to ignore your training.”

“Yes, mother,” Sam droned, but he did so with a fond look in his eyes and a smile quirking the corners of his mouth.

Mary returned the smile and then turned back towards her own chambers, doors opening and closing without command. Alone with just Garth, Sam looked to his tailor and confidante.

“Why do you think mother is so worried?”

Garth paused mid-pin and straightened, meeting Sam’s eyes in a way few of the servants would. Pulling a pin from between his lips, Garth looked towards the doors that Mary had passed through only moments before. “I don’t know, sir. But it can’t be all bad. The ball is still to happen.”

“That is true. Though at this point, if mother and father were to turn away the guests who are traveling here, that would in itself cause a war. No one likes to journey hundreds of miles, only to be turned away at their destination. King Morningstar would find it a slight like no other.” Sam adjusted his stance, straightening.

Gareth gave a knowing nod. “I heard that King Morningstar has a reputation.”

“Everything you’ve heard is, from what I have been told, near enough completely true. I pity the poor wretches who end up in his dungeons.” Sam licked his lips, the conversation making him feel nervous, because he knew that King Lucifer Morningstar would take such talk as a slight in of itself. Regardless of the truth therein.

“Then let us hope our guests all have a delightful time,” Garth said sagely. Taking up his pins again, Garth returned to pinning the fabrics together, leaving Sam to his own thoughts as he patiently stood there.

That Sam had chosen King Morningstar as an example had Sam wondering at his choice. Many members of royalty would be at the ball, but the name had come to him unbidden and felt right as it sat there in his mind, possibilities unfurling.

“Yes, let us hope,” Sam agreed quietly.

***

Foam splashed up on his wings and Dean tried not to giggle as he glided just above the sea. A small patch of rain was coming, the sky darkening on the horizon further out and away from the shoreline. The waves churned and chopped, fizzing and flexing, and Dean enjoyed whipping it up further with his mighty emerald wings almost brushing them.

Legs tucked in tight to his body, Dean used his tail to steer as he rushed across the water. The cove nearby was known to few and he had not seen any humans in weeks on this side of the island, so he had decided to stretch his wings for once.

The salt in the air was different to the verdant lushness of his mountain-forest home. There was a cleanness to the air that he just couldn’t find in the forest, and it was different to the peaks of his mountain. It was rare he allowed himself to fly, but today he had fancied some fish and to take to the skies.

Curving around and flapping his wings to gain some more lift, it took Dean a moment to see that several dots had appeared on the horizon. Stopping his play and scooting back towards land, Dean hoped he hadn’t been spotted as he made for the top of the cliffs and landed. Blending in with the green and brown of the clifftop, Dean used his superior vision to study the crafts upon the water.

Ships rarely sailed this side of the island he called home. Too many reefs, rocks and wrecks to safely navigate around. Of course it was possible if you knew what you were doing, but even then it was not recommended. Dean watched as the ships, over a hundred, drew closer and then stopped before the worst of the reefs that lurked under the waves.

The ships had flags and sails Dean did not recognize, a golden star on red, but then it had been many centuries since he had involved himself in the affairs of humans. He’d found, like many of his sisters and brothers, that humans could be nothing but trouble. Taking easy offense if you didn’t take their gold or didn’t eat their virgin sacrifices. Though if Dean was being honest with himself, he did miss the virgins, even if he really didn’t want to eat them. How humans got that idea, he’ll never know, but he knows what meat he’d rather have roasted and it tends to have four legs—thank you very much.

 _Or their many recipes and foods_ , _because they are delightful_ , Dean considered.

Men scrambled on the deck of one ship and a small boat filled with several other people, dressed in cloaks, was lowered down into the water, breaking Dean’s thoughts of gold, virgins and roast beef. He watched as the cloaked figures began the slow passage across the water, two people rowing while three more sat and did nothing.

Those rowing knew where they were going, avoiding the reefs and rocks that would have ruined many others. A chill that had nothing to do with the gathering rain, ran down Dean’s long spine, making his ridges ache. He felt like something was happening, that these people could not be of wholly innocent intent.

 _To the east of here along the coast is the castle city of Bunkah,_ Dean thought to himself, _at least that’s what it was called when I was last there._ It was the nearest inhabited place that wasn’t some tiny village. The people now reaching the shore did not look like the kind of people who would arrive with a fleet of one hundred ships just to go and pay a visit to some villager.

He dug through his memories and recalled the many wars he had witnessed, sometimes participated in (not that most humans knew). Dean understood with sad certainty that a fleet of that size could only be there for one reason: war.

Without further thought, Dean launched himself off the other side of the clifftop, out of sight of the invading force and gained air. He flew around the coast until he could wind his way up into the clouds without being spotted. There was no plan in his mind, only the thought that he needed to reach Bunkah and soon. The people there, he was sure, did not deserve what might be coming their way.


	2. Chapter 2

Sam couldn’t remember the last time the city had felt so full. Bunkah was brimming with people from all over the kingdoms. While the ball was the main point of celebration for those of royal blood, feasts were to be laid on in his name. He was laced, buttoned and hooked into the elaborate blue doublet, gray breeches and black boots, all trimmed in silver thread. And had placed on his head a silver coronet encrusted with diamonds and sapphires. Silver rings adorned his fingers and a hefty silver and sapphire amulet hung from his neck.

It wasn’t gold, but that was because gold just was not Sam’s style and it was one of the few aesthetic choices he was allowed to make. Walking down to the ballroom, Ketch at his back—the bodyguard dressed in leather jerkin and breeches, boots hiding gods knew how many knives—Sam felt naked to be nearing so many people, with no staff at his side. He could summon spells without it, but the staff helped him to channel his powers.

The doorway to the ballroom was flanked by two members of the royal guard, their uniforms a crisp blue. Seeing Sam, they straightened, clicked their heels together and bowed, before opening the doors.

Sam walked steadily into the ballroom, the crowd of people quieting as Sam entered. Across the vast room, his parents were sat upon their thrones on a raised dais.

An official herald cried, “Crown Prince Samuel of House Winchester, second of his name!”

Sam gave a gracious royal smile to the gathered members of his family’s court and his guests, slowly stepping deeper into the ballroom as the crowd parted for him. He made his way over to the dais and bowed to his parents and then turned around to face everyone. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Ketch keeping himself available, but out of the way.

King John stepped down from the dais and clasped a hand on Sam’s left shoulder squeezing. “Thank you all for coming. I know many of you have had far to come, but I hope you will all enjoy yourselves this evening, as we celebrate my son becoming a man.”

And with that the musicians settled against one side of the room, took up their instruments and began to play a waltz and Sam found himself holding onto his first dance partner of the night. A charming redhead, her long hair coiled up high on her head and her golden dress radiant on her skin. She danced well as they danced alone for a time, until everyone else began to join them.

“Lady Charlie,” his dance partner offered. “And, no offense, Prince Samuel, but I don’t believe I will be taking up my parents’ desire for me to woo you with my dance moves this night.”

Sam had been avoiding thinking on the simple fact that this whole night might be used by his parents to match him with a wife. “No offense taken.”

“It’s nothing personal,” Charlie added, gaze drifting past Sam and to someone else on the edges of the dance floor. As they whirled around, Sam got a look at the subject of Charlie’s attention. A tall, dark haired woman dressed in a bouncy red gown.

“She looks beautiful,” Sam said.

Charlie blushed and nodded as they came towards the end of their dance. “Lady Dorothy truly is.”

The waltz finished and Charlie and Sam bowed to each other. Sam was thinking of having a drink, but then he was herded towards another dance partner and she was in his arms before he could say anything.

“Princess Lilith,” the woman introduced. Her blond hair was loose, tailing down her back, held out of the way with golden jewel encrusted combs. Her dress was white with diamonds sewn into the sheer fabric. She wore a gold necklace that ended in a golden star.

The name was familiar and as he caught glimpses of who it was that was paying them the most attention in the crowds. A man with cruel blue eyes and fair hair watched the two of them, his dress and company and similar star meaning only one thing. He had in his arms the daughter of King Morningstar.

Lilith danced preternaturally well and Sam hoped that no one was expecting the two of them to be a match. He had not seen Lilith since he was a young boy and he recalled that she had in fact ground under foot one of his favorite wooden toy soldiers. Sam had retaliated and set her hair on fire, which was the second time Sam’s parents had realized he might have an aptitude for magic.

“I see that your hair is more lovely than when I last saw you,” Sam complimented.

A scowl flitted over Lilith’s face and then quickly disappeared beneath a cool smile. “It helps when some rugrat isn’t burning it off.”

_Yeah, no. I do not want to end up engaged to this one_ , Sam thought. He tried avoiding King Morningstar’s gaze as the pair of them continued to dance.

***

Bunkah was noisier and smellier than what Dean last remembered. Though maybe he tried blocking out his past memory, because yeah—that was not a smell anyone would want to remember. Having returned to his home to find appropriate attire and coin, Dean had flown part of the way to the city before transforming into his human form. He’d dressed in the finest robes, a style not seen for several hundred years. _It’s bound to be back in fashion_ , Dean had told himself. The green silk and tightly spun cloth of his clothes maintained a richness that Dean liked. That they reminded him of his scales was just a happy coincidence.

He’d contemplated dressing like a commoner, but he had wanted to be able to get to the castle and warn the current king of what he had seen. No one would have taken a commoner seriously.

Making his way through the streets of the city, the cobbles feeling strange under his feet, Dean had caught glimpses of the royal carriages and horse riders making their way to the castle that overlooked the city. Following them, his rich attire and the jewels on his neck had meant none of the city guards had stopped him the closer he got to the castle. When he reached the gates, Dean had been able to slip through them, trailing a family who was on horseback.

The crowds of finely dressed people arriving at the castle suggested that some celebration was afoot. Skulking near the stables, Dean saw a carriage with a banner that had the same design as the sails on the ships. It wasn’t a coincidence, Dean knew that.

Putting on his most confident “I am meant to be here” pose, Dean strode away from the stables headed towards the main doors into the castle. He rifled through his aliases as he thought of which one, considering his attire, would be best to get him inside.

“And who are you?” asked a royal guard as he blocked Dean’s path. The open doors were behind the guard, noises of celebration drifting down.

“I am the Seer Smyth.”

“Never heard of yo-”

“Seer Smyth?” came a grizzled man’s voice from behind the guard. An older man, dressed much like a mage, stepped forth from the shadow of the door.

Dean met the mage’s eyes and nodded. “Yes, Seer Smyth.”

“Master Singer-”

“He is with me.” Master Singer smiled. “Come, let us find you some wine and you can tell me all about your journey here.”

Dean grinned at the guard and walked around him. Master Singer led him away from the doors and into a side chamber.

“I know who you really are, or rather what,” Master Singer said as he lit a lamp and sat down at a small table. The room was musty, the hangings tired.

Dean joined Master Singer on the opposite side of the table and put his hands on the plain and weary surface. “So you recognized my name? It’s good to know that your kind still has scrolls on me.” Dean smiled. “I mean no harm in my coming here, but I need to speak with the king. There is a plot afoot.”

“What kind of plot?”

“Ships, off Siren Point. At least that’s what it was called when last I inquired.”

“By the reefs?”

“Yes.”

Mage Singer’s lips thinned and he drew out a flagon of wine and two cups as if from nowhere. “How many ships?”

Closing his eyes, Dean recalled his memory of the morning. “At least a hundred. The sails had a gold star upon them.” Dean opened his eyes. “Who are they?”

Master Singer pushed a cup of wine at Dean and then drank down his own in one go. “King Morningstar’s fleet.” Shaking his head, he poured another cup for himself. “We need to speak with King John.”

Screams sounded from deeper within the castle and in a flash Dean and Master Singer were out of the room and running, towards what Dean did not know, but he had to do something. Feet slapping against the flagstones on the floor, Dean followed Master Singer and arrived in a large room bedecked as if for a celebration.

The screaming had stopped, but several figures were being given a wide berth. A young man and an older woman stood cowering behind a man who held a sword, blade glinting. Across from them was a man who wore an outfit in all shades of gold, a star amulet resting on his chest.

At their feet was a man bleeding, but still alive. The crown near his head suggested that perhaps he was one of the kings.

“Get away from them!” Master Singer yelled, stepping forward, fireball forming in his hand.

“You should have accepted my offer,” shouted the man with the star. _King Morningstar?_ Dean guessed. He had blood dripping from his right hand.

“No!” cried the woman. Dean looked to the young man beside her and found his hearts suddenly trying to claw up to his throat. Blinking, Dean tried to ignore the man’s beauty and focus on what was happening.

Unfamiliar guards stepped forward from the crowd of gathered people, and Master Singer turned to Dean, “Protect Sam!” he ordered, pointing at the young man.

The man who had so bewitched Dean a moment ago turned to him, a questioning look on his face, but Dean stepped forward, moving as swift as the wind and grabbed Sam by the waist. Dean hoisted him across his shoulder and moved through the scene as if he already had his wings back, dodging the chaos that was erupting from each corner of the room.

He didn’t stop running until Bunkah was miles behind them.


	3. Chapter 3

“Dad!” Sam shouted, bolting awake. For a moment, he thought his ball had been a dream, and then he took in his surroundings. Herbs and other plants were drying from the rafters of the cottage he was in. The bed was simple, but comfortable and the whole room smelled of wood smoke, oil and leather.

“You’re awake then,” said an unfamiliar voice from a high backed chair made of darkly stained oak.

Sam scrambled out of bed as the man who went with the voice stood and turned to look at him. Everything felt too cold and Sam looked down at his own body in horror as he saw he was naked.

Words bubbled across his mind, all angry, but the stranger threw him a fur cloak before he could take offence at the man's staring and Sam wrapped it around himself. He was still trying to find the right words as he approached his captor, but he just did not know where to start.

“Sorry about the whole unconsciousness thing… must have knocked your head during the part where I ran for our lives.” The man shrugged.

And now Sam had somewhere to start. “How dare you! What gives you the ri-”

“Master Singer ordered me to take you to safety.”

Sam stopped as the memory of his father laying in a pool of his own blood, hardly breathing, swam before his eyes. “Is he…?”

The stranger pursed his lips, his expression thoughtful. “I don’t know what happened once we left. But I do know that King Morningstar is responsible.”

Sam nodded in agreement and sat down on a chest beside the bed. He looked the man over, noticing the surprising greenness of his eyes. So bright and warm and alive. Lips soft and pink. Freckles across his nose and cheeks. Sam realized he was staring and looked away. _Now is not the time!_ “Can I have my clothes?”

The stranger shook his head. “So, uh, not only did I maybe knock you unconscious… There was some fire… a lot of water and uh… Your outfit was ruined. Though your coronet and other jewels were fine.”

Sam was definitely having the worst birthday ever.

Dean, that was the man’s name apparently, found him attire the likes of which Sam had never seen, but it was similar to Dean’s own. The silk was a light blue. He gave him his jewels back and Sam got dressed.

“We need to return to Bunkah at once,” Sam declared.

Dean shook his head as he poked at a kettle on his kitchen fire. “There’s a ward around the entire city. Went up not long after we got past the city walls.” Dean straightened and stood. “What happened back there?”

Sam bit his lip and took a seat at the kitchen table on the other side of the single room cottage. “King Lucifer, Morningstar, asked, no more like demanded, that I marry his daughter Lilith and that my father abdicate the throne.”

“Oh, is that all.”

Sam scrunched up his face. Ready to start cursing anything that moved in the cottage.

Dean held up his right hand in supplication. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to be… rude. It’s been some time since I… had guests.”

“And who are you?” Sam pressed.

“I am Dean Greenscale.”

A question on the tip of his tongue, Sam wanted to ask more but then his stomach gave an almighty rumble. He rubbed at this stomach, the pain of hunger all too real. They hadn’t even reached the feasting portion of his Birthday when his father had been attacked.

Dean looked at Sam’s stomach, his gaze making Sam feel like he was naked again, green eyes alert and questioning. Eyes traveling up Sam’s body, Dean met Sam’s and licked his lips. “You must be hungry.”

Without waiting for a reply, Dean bounded off of his seat and started flitting around the cottage kitchen. He was almost too big for the space it seemed, the way he seemed to be able to reach everything and had to keep ducking his head. There was a gracefulness to the way he moved, like he was of the air and flowed into the space just-so.

The display was like a dance and Sam felt himself enthralled by every single step that Dean took as he made his way around the space. Chopping wild onions, slicing peppers and breaking mushrooms. Butter sizzled and the air smelled of food as Dean added beaten eggs to a hot pan. He ground pepper and salt on top of it, and grated some cheese, before adding the vegetables.

Finally the whole thing was folded over, cooked a little longer and then slid onto a plate. Dean placed the plated food in front of Sam and set down a knife and fork. Sam had no idea what the name of this food was, but it smelled amazing.

“Thank you,” Sam said, mouth watering. He picked up his knife and fork, cut a piece of the food onto his fork, marveling at the yellow-ness of the egg, and blew. A moment later he popped the first piece into his mouth and hummed in delight as the buttery-ness of the egg and the tang of the cheese danced in his mouth with the zing of the vegetables.

“Do you like it?” Dean asked as he set down with his own plate of the same thing.

“Yes! What is it?” Sam cut, blew and chewed another tasty bite.

“An omelet.” Dean took his first bite and sighed happily.

The two of them slowly ate their omelets, Sam sharing looks with Dean over his plate. He still didn’t know much about this strange man who may have quite possibly saved his life, but at least he seemed to be kind. _And surprisingly easy on the eyes_ , Sam thought as he tried to hide a blush.

Now, if only he could find out the fate of his family and kingdom.

***

Dean clenched and unclenched his fists as he stood beside Sam, the two of them looking across to Bunkah from the side of Dean’s favorite mountain. They had taken the easy climb up. It had taken a few hours, but they had reached the summit and could see all the way to the city.

Bunkah was covered in a hazy veil of rose pink; the city’s walls, major structures and buildings just visible beyond. It was old, dark magic. Dean could feel it in his scales what trying to pass through it unprotected might do to an individual.

“How do we get past it?” Sam asked, using Dean’s ancient spyglass to see further than his human eyes would allow. Shifting his weight, Sam suddenly wobbled, which would have been fine if not for the huge fall in front of them.

_Humans are so fragile_ , Dean thought as he instinctively reached his hand out and steadied Sam, his hand resting on the small of Sam’s back. He was wrapped up in a sheepskin jacket, and Dean could imagine the warmth that was wrapped around Sam underneath.

Settling back against Dean’s hand as he continued to look on, Sam seemed to think nothing of the contact. When Sam was done looking towards Bunkah, he tilted his head towards Dean and held out the spyglass.

“Any ideas?” Sam asked, eyes slowly fixing on Dean’s mouth.

“No, but… perhaps the Library of Elders may have some knowledge pertaining to this?”

The two of them stepped further back, heading back towards the trail they had climbed up on. Sam paused and looked to Dean. “Library of Elders?”

“If it’s still there. I haven’t been in some time. But it strikes me as the kind of thing that they might have a scroll on. Master Singer would have known,” Dean explained.

“Why don’t I know of the Library of Elders?” Sam asked. “I’ve been training as a mage since I could cause my first fire!”

Dean set a hand on Sam’s shoulder, trying to make the touch reassuring and comforting. “You would have probably been told by Master Singer that night. It tends to be passed on when you come of age. He thought he would have time to tell you.”

Sam’s lips trembled and his eyes looked a little wet. Dean realized that the prince was about to cry.

“But,” Dean continued, “we’ll find a way back to him and hopefully, soon enough, he’ll be able to tell you himself.”

“Right, right.”

Unsure what to do, Dean pulled Sam towards him and drew him into a hug. Curling his arms around Sam, he felt him start to calm, breathing slowly easing out to something normal. Dean couldn’t remember the last time he had held someone in this way, but Sam needed comfort, needed someone to stand beside him and work to save his kingdom.

Sure, it had been some time since dragons had been this involved in human affairs, but perhaps the likes of King Morningstar needed to be reminded that creatures far more fearsome and powerful than mages existed. Though Dean was unsure about when Sam should find out that part.

As they made their way back down the mountain, Dean wondered if he should tell Sam what he really was. Certainly it would make journeying to the Library of Elders take far less time if he did. The library was across the sea and in a place that was far harder to climb than Dean’s mountain. A forest with miles of ancient and awoken woodland, the trees as much of a danger as the smaller creatures that lurked in its shadows.

_But how do I explain to Sam, along with everything else that is going on, and I swear to the gods that the rest of his family better still be alive, or I am toasting that Morningstar fucker myself… How do I say to him, Hi, the guy who rescued you? He’s a dragon by the way. That’s how Master Singer knew of me, knew to trust me._ Dean sighed as they reached the foot of the mountain, the profile of his cottage only feet away.

He glanced over at Sam, thinking. _If I leave it too long, he might flee, run straight into danger and gods know what else. I’m sure he could throw the odd fireball or two, but he’s never faced someone like Morningstar before and his kind of magic. And I need Sam to trust me, telling him the truth will build towards that._

They reached the cottage and Sam was slowly pulling himself free of the fleece jacket. “I don’t suppose you have any coffee that we could drink? Or cocoa? It’s just maybe the perfect thing after a hike and climb like that. And how far away is the library by the way? You didn’t say and I suppose we should probably start for it tomorrow-”

“Sam, I need to tell you something.” Dean stopped before the door.

Turning around to look at Dean, Sam’s brow knitted together. “What do you need to tell me?”

Dean rubbed awkwardly at the back of his neck. “I’m a dragon, Sam.”

Tilting his head to the side, Sam frowned some more, a look of disbelief on his face. “Surely not. Where are the sacrificial virgins, or their remains, the piles of gold and carcasses of dead farm animals? And if you’re a dragon, how have I never heard of there being a dragon in the kingd-”

Dean closed his eyes and changed.


	4. Chapter 4

There had been three times, prior to Dean’s grand reveal, that Prince Samuel had been made speechless. Truly speechless—the kind where you stop mid sentence as your brain turns to mush around you and the world flips itself upside down. The first had been when he’d cast a fireball for the first time, letting the ball of flame burn a path through his nursery. A three year old Sam had watched that fire consume one of his favorite teddies until his mother had managed to banish the flames.

The second time was when Sam was 15 and had accidentally fallen off a balcony and into a bath on the balcony below. The balcony that so happened to be off the room of a visiting princess from a faraway land where it snowed a lot. She’d had the most lovely blond hair and had been Sam’s first crush. Spluttering up from the bath’s waters, Sam’s water clogged eyes had stopped on the pale white shift dress that barely covered his family’s guest. He’d barely been able to muster an apology, his brain and mouth had been so uncooperative.

For the third time Sam had been rendered speechless? He’d been 17 and in the stables, brushing down the gelding he’d been given for his birthday the year before. An unexpected creaking from the hayloft above had caught his attention and he’d gone to investigate. Climbing up to the loft, quietly as a mouse, he’d been greeted at the top by the sight of two stable hands—Cesar and Jesse—engaged in non-horse related duties. Sam had needed a cold bath after that.

But as Sam stood in front of a tiny cottage he’d known nothing of less than a day ago, he’d been rendered brain mushingly speechless. The green scales of Dean’s dragon self glinted and glittered in the light, taking on a thousand shades of verdant green. A little corner of Sam’s brain that was struggling to gain some degree of function, as he stared into Dean’s huge viridian eyes, was trying to tell him that he should turn and run. Run as far away and as fast as his legs would carry him.

Instead Sam stood in front of that tiny cottage, shocked and dumb. Unable to stop staring at the magnificent creature before him. Master Singer had spoken of dragons in many lessons over the years, but none of the scrolls, books or scribbled school board notes, or few paintings or tapestries they had, had done justice to what it was like to behold a dragon in its true form.

The dragon, Dean, quirked his head to the side as he looked back at Sam. And Sam realized he was standing there with his mouth hanging open and with maybe the low whining pitch of a scream trying to work its way out of the back of his throat. With effort, Sam closed his mouth, swallowed and then took a deep long breath.

“You’re a dragon,” Sam said in a small voice.

Dean’s eyes looked at him with an expression that said “isn’t that plainly obvious?” and Sam agreed that maybe he had stated the obvious. Pursing his lips for a second, courage mounting, Sam took a step towards Dean. One. Two. Three. He slowly edged towards Dean and then held his right hand out. Dean leaned his head in, which was near the size of a horse, and Sam rested his palm somewhere between Dean’s nostrils on his snout.

His scales were smooth and warm. Sam pushed his hand back up Dean’s snout and stroked him. A deep rumble built up inside Dean, vibrating his snout and Sam’s hand and he thought it was almost like the purring of a cat.

Sam kept petting Dean. “So,” Sam said, “I’m guessing that you think we can fly to the Library of Elders?”

A deeper rumble worked its way out of Dean and Sam took that for a “yes”.

“Interesting. I have not flown before.” Sam closed his eyes.

When he opened them again, Dean stood before him as a human once more and Sam’s hand was holding Dean’s left cheek. His own face reddening, breathing suddenly becoming slightly more difficult, Sam felt he couldn’t quite pull his hand away from Dean. For his own part, Dean seemed fine with things and stepped into Sam’s space, putting their faces mere inches from each other.

Sam was slightly taller than Dean at this level. Eyes lowering to Dean’s mouth, Sam wondered what it would be like to kiss those soft pink lips. Then Dean closed the distance, bringing their mouths together. _Oh!_ Sam thought to himself. Heat flowed through him as they kissed, making Sam mold his body to Dean’s as they stood there in the sunlight, kissing searchingly at first, until Dean’s tongue pressed in and Sam opened to him.

Dean was all around Sam, tasting of mint and embers, of sunlight and waves. All rolled in one. Heat building, Sam wasn’t sure if he was going to combust on the spot.

Pulling back, Sam caught his breath and met Dean’s gaze. Warmth and longing greeted him and Sam returned the look.

“We’ll prepare to fly out this night,” Dean announced, voice rough from kissing. “It should make us less likely to be spotted by Morningstar’s forces on the coast.”

Sam nodded, but didn’t pull away from Dean. “What’s it like to fly?”

A fond smile played across Dean’s lips. “The best thing. Feeling the air in your wings and the rush…. Oh there is nothing like it. To swoop and soar!” Dean sighed. “Not that I was always so fond of the sky.”

“Oh?”

“As a hatchling, I was scared of flying.”

Shocked, Sam waited for Dean to continue.

“That was, until I was forced out of the nest… And then I had no choice but to learn how to fly.” Dean grimaced. “But I did and now… Now it’s one of my favorite things to do.”

“What else do you enjoy doing?” Sam asked without a thought.

“Oh, you know,” Dean’s eyes roved over Sam’s body before meeting his gaze again, “virgins.”

Dean let go of Sam and left the prince to sputter and splutter in disbelief as his face heated and his ears reddened. Sam couldn’t quite believe what Dean had just said, but then he reflected that their mouths had been locked together for some time and he’d very much enjoyed it.

“C’mon, we don’t have all day,” Dean called from the open front door of the cottage. “I need to make sure my old harness will suit you before we head out. And I’ll need to check a few charts as well. It’s not an easy flight.”

Sam slowly turned to the cottage, but Dean had already headed inside.

***

Puttering about the cottage, Dean tried not to dwell on the fact that he’d just kissed Sam, a prince—a virgin prince no less. Now that was, in Dean’s experience, a hard thing to come by for men of Sam’s age. Not that he was judging. For mages, much of their life really was spent in study and it was difficult to find time to pursue anything resembling a relationship let alone simple fling with no expectations on either party. Not that Dean was sure he could just have a fling with the prince.

_He tasted good,_ Dean thought distractedly as he opened up an immense sea chest near his bed. He started poking through it until he found what he was looking for. Hands closing round the tanned cords and strips of leather, Dean heaved out the old dragon rider saddle, the buckles clinking together as he did. Looking over the immense saddle, the seat not much bigger than that for a horse, Dean tallied up the work needed to make it flight ready.

Floorboards creaked behind him and he looked over his shoulder to see Sam sitting down at the pocked marked kitchen table that filled much of one side of the cottage. Turning to the table, Dean stepped over and set the saddle down, its girth flopping over the side of the table and trailing across the floor.

“What’s that?” Sam asked.

“A dragon rider saddle. Should be the right size for you.” Dean turned over to a cupboard, knelt down and started rooting inside of it, looking for his oils, and creams and cloths.

“A dragon rider?”

Finding two jars with varying shades of brown oil or cream in them, plus a handful of leather cleaning cloths, Dean stood up and sat opposite Sam on the table, the saddle between them.

“Dragon riders aren’t really a thing nowadays, but, say four, five hundred years ago, there were many,” Dean said.

“I feel like Master Singer said something many lessons ago about them, in passing. I know a lot about dragons, but why not dragon riders?” Sam reached over the table and grabbed a cloth, dipping it in the creamy substance Dean had opened.

“You’ll see, at the Library of Elders,” Dean said, voice pinched with sadness. “Anyway, dragon riders flew with us, during the Eveneed War, to stop the calamity that threatened to swallow all the lands, all kingdoms in eternal blood soaked death. When monsters tried one last time to claim our world.”

“Eveneed War?”

“Another thing Master Singer would have told you about… you’ll learn more at the library.”

Sam humphed and sighed. “Seems to me that Morningstar’s invasion has had a real impact on my schooling,” he muttered. “So, how is a saddle that’s so old kept in such good shape?”

Glad that Sam hadn’t asked him about his own dragon rider of centuries past, Dean grunted, “Dragon thing.” He took a cloth and used some of the same cream that Sam was using on this side of the saddle. “Never wondered how dragons keep their hoards in shape?”

“Do you have a pile of gold and jewels somewhere?” Sam asked.

“Ha, no. Not my style.”

“Do some dragons have treasure? And where are they?”

“There are other dragons, but fewer now. Those that remain… Some are like me, living away from civilization, but much like a human. Others are in the mountains here and there, holed up for eternity I’m sure.”

“How does no one know where you are? Do you get visitors?”

“First one: dragon thing. Second: not for a very long time.”

The two of them continued to work, conversation sifting through Dean’s life and the lore of dragons and dragon riders, but Dean put pause to much of that, insisting Sam discover for himself when they reached the Library of Elders. Dean could tell Sam, but part of his coming of age as a mage was that he was meant to learn of these things himself, there, at the library. Much of that experience had already been taken from him, Dean didn’t wish to take more.

Anyway, Dean could hunt down a way to destroy the barrier and let Sam learn of his heritage, of the full truth of how the world came to be in his day and age. Though Dean promised himself that he would go to the garden at the library and pay his respects. It was the least he owed his former dragon rider.

When the saddle was finally polished to perfection and all ties and buckles checked, it felt as if the kiss of earlier that day was a hundred years ago. Dean looked across the table as they ate a light supper of greens, cheese and bread, wondering how he’d been so lucky to meet the prince. He just wished it was under different circumstances.

Night slowly descended across the forest and mountain beyond the cottage and Dean finished checking they had everything they needed. He sorted out a pack to tie to the saddle with a few things more for Sam’s comfort than his own—spare clothes and some food.

Finally, Dean pulled out an old fur cloak, blue glass goggles and gloves. He held them up for Sam, the dark thick fur glinting in strange rainbow hues here and there where the light of the dying fire caught it.

“Here,” Dean said, offering the garments.

“I’ll boil!” Sam declared, motioning to the warmth of the evening.

“Flying on a dragon’s back is much like standing on a mountain’s peak,” Dean patiently explained. “It gets very cold, very fast.”

Sam pouted for all of a second and then took the cloak and gloves from Dean. “If you say so,” Sam muttered. He then nudged closer and kissed Dean on the cheek, nervousness clear.

And Dean couldn’t leave it like that before they took to the night’s skies. He put a hand on the small of Sam’s back and drew him close, kissing him on the lips as he did. The kiss was sure and warm, trying to offer Sam the strength to handle all the new things that were being piled on him in such a short space of time. _Fly. Find a spell. Head back. Save the kingdom… save the prince?_ Dean wondered.


	5. Chapter 5

“OH MY GODS!” Sam whooped for the hundredth time as Dean dove down and then swooped upwards once more, the waves undulating in the moonlight.

To think he would normally be asleep at this hour and was instead soaring through the night skies on the back of a dragon. Sam still could not get over the exhilaration of flight. Taking off from the side of a cliff had left Sam thinking that young nestling Dean had been right about his fears, but when Dean’s immense wings had caught the air and they had swung upwards—Sam had felt his heart lift with joy.

The reason for their journey across the Winding Sea was far back in Sam’s mind as they glided above the foaming waves with ease. Sam was just delighted to be alive and able to share this with Dean. Finding out his rescuer was a dragon was seeming less and less of shock. But as Sam thought of Dean now, now that they had shared more than just bread, Sam had to admit his attraction to Dean was slowly growing to be more than a mere crush.

_But I can’t think about that_ , Sam thought as land slowly came into view on the horizon, and reality intruded on his thoughts once more, _I have duties to my kingdom, and family_. Despite that a part of Sam hoped that perhaps, just maybe, there might be a chance for him and Dean.

Towering cliffs loomed ahead, their rocks obscured by moon driven shadows. Dean flew up them, as Sam clung to the saddle with his hands and legs, and then they were above the cliffs, flying across rocky outcrops. Pine trees stood here and there, huge and towering, their branches shadowy tridents against the deep blue of the night sky. The stars above told Sam that they had traveled west from his family’s kingdom.

Dean kept to just above the trees as he flew across the land and Sam wondered where the library was. As they raced across the landscape, a line of mountains came into view ahead, with nothing but flat ground, rocky outcrops, scrubs and towering pines between them and the mountains. Snow glittered in the moonlight on their tall peaks.

All too quickly, the mountains were looming ahead of them and Dean showed no sign of stopping or slowing down. _Perhaps he plans to soar up and over them?_ Sam considered, but panic crept up inside of him until he was clinging to the saddle for dear life and praying they weren’t just about to go smack into a mountain side.

“STOP, DEAN, STOP!” Sam tried to holler, but his words were lost to the screaming wind that rushed past them in the wake of Dean’s flight.

Rock towered in front of them, some 100 feet away and Sam screwed his eyes shut and prayed that this was all a joke as Dean showed no sign of slowing. His stomach sunk and he held on, knowing that to fall from Dean would equally mean death.

A sensation of passing prickling, like pins and needles, went all over his skin, sending his hair to stand on end and Sam peeked his eyes open curiously, as they had yet to go smack into their rocky deaths. Instead he found them to be flying through a great leafy valley, moonlight streaming in, flaming stone torches set into the floor below at regular intervals. He looked over his shoulder and saw a shimmering gray veil.

_A glamor!_ Sam realized and then looked back ahead to see a sprawling series of towers and other structures carved into the side of the valley, going up the side of the mountain. Dean started to descend as a dirt covered clearing came into view and Sam held on.

Wings slowing in beats, Dean glided down to the clearing and gently landed on the packed earth. Sam waited a moment, willing his limbs to cooperate from the near frozen positions they were in and then started to ease himself off of the saddle. It wasn’t much different from getting down from a horse, only there was a bigger distance from Dean’s back to the ground. Dean hunched down lower, belly touching the dirt and Sam jumped the last few feet, lading perfectly.

Turning to Dean, Sam’s mouth slid open as he watched Dean’s green scaled dragon self melt and ease its way into a man’s form. Dean stretched his arms up into the air and stamped his booted feet several times.

“We’re here,” Dean said, a cocky grin on his face like he knew Sam had had a small heart attack in the last few minutes of their journey.

“You could have warned me,” Sam grumbled.

“Where’s the fun in that,” Dean shot back. “C’mon, it’s this way,” he said, pointing to a path leading away from what Sam now understood was a landing zone for dragons. Dean bundled up his saddle and the roll that had been tied to it, slinging the items over his shoulder, with a stout leather band fixing all to his back.

Heading into the trees they soon found a series of steps and started to climb up towards the valley and mountain’s side. Sam soon shed the fur cloak and gloves, though kept the goggles pulled back on top of his head. Dean just bundled the garments with some rope and had Sam carry it, slung over his back.

Here and there was the sound of chittering from creatures that normally called the night their own. Owls hooted in the calm and bats swooped across the treeline. All at odds with the imposing stone structure climbing out of the mountainside ahead of them.

The steps slowly leveled out as the first building, a gatehouse, blocked their way. The doors to the gatehouse, towering things made of thick oak, were closed and there was no guard posted.

“How do we get inside? Is everyone asleep?” Sam asked, hefting his roll of flight attire.

“Come, let’s look at the carvings beside the doors, hm?” Dean suggested.

Sam and Dean walked over to the stone walls and Sam studied the carvings there. The runes beside the more illustrated elements were in a dialect Sam was not overly familiar with. But as he read through them and checked them beside the carved pictures, he started to understand that he, Sam, needed to pass a test.

“‘Show restraint and you may enter,’ it says, I think,” Sam mumbled as he checked over the carvings again. There was a picture of a mage throwing fireballs, another thunder and lightning, one looked like they had made themselves invisible—all of these had the doors before them closed in the carvings. But a fourth mage just looked like a normal mage, doing nothing, and before this one the doors were open.

Dean offered no indication to what he thought of the information and stood back, leaning against a tree as he watched Sam.

“A little help?” Sam asked.

“You got this,” Dean replied with a sage nod of his head. “I believe in you.”

Sam rolled his eyes, and turned back to the carvings and the doors. _‘Show restraint and you may enter_ ,’ he thought to himself. It seemed clear to him that performing an act of magic would likely get him nowhere.

Sam repeated the wisdom of his mother in a low whisper, “‘You can’t just use magic to solve all of your problems…’” and it was almost as if she was reaching forward to tell this Sam what to do about the doors. Even his mother would have been to the Library of Elders once coming of age. It was a right of passage for all mages, regardless of gender, station at birth or creed.

Allowing himself only a moment to feel fear and sadness for the sake of his mother and father’s fates, Sam bolstered his resolve as he wiped a few tears from his eyes. He would see them again, and Master Singer and Garth, and even Lady Bradbury.

Feeling like he knew what to do, Sam moved away from the carvings and faced the doors head on. He started walking towards the oak doors, pace fast and unwavering. It was the mountains all over again.

Just as Sam thought he was about to smack into the doors, the wooden slats creaked and groaned as the doors opened inwards slowly revealing a quiet courtyard beyond. Sam did a little “woop” and then stopped his celebration as Dean strode on in ahead of him, expression grim.

***

It had been centuries since Dean had visited the Library of Elders. He hadn’t had much reason to, but now he did. He walked over to Sam, brushing past him as he did and headed into the courtyard proper. The courtyard was an immense, large square space, flanked on all sides by the various buildings that formed the lower part of the library. Here, in centuries past, the many staff who used to tend the library, would set about more mundane tasks and chores that didn’t involve books or scribing. The flagstones that covered the courtyard were pitted here and there from centuries of everyday tasks, like memories waiting to be recalled. The sconces that lined the courtyard were all lit, throwing flickering shadows over everything.

But it was also here in the courtyard, as the main library halls and quarters loomed overhead, that the last visible trace of the Eveneed War on this world could be found. For scattered throughout the courtyard (or the garden as Dean thought of it now), standing before a large freestanding stone archway, stood what remained of the dragon riders who had come together to assist in the final battle against Eve’s armies in Purgatory.

Dean could feel Sam’s eyes on him as he moved between what appeared to be pale marble statues of intricate detailing and craftsmanship, but Dean knew better.

“What is this?” Sam asked in a hushed voice. “Why are all these statues here, Dean?”

Dean didn’t answer as he looked for one figure in particular, a man who stood tall and proud, a determined smile on his face. It took him some minutes, time having worn Dean’s memories down a little, but Dean found him, found his first and only dragon rider.

“Benny,” Dean said, gently placing a hand on the shoulder of the familiar form. “I’m sorry it’s been so long.”

Sam stood behind Dean, but said nothing.

A tear stung at Dean’s eye and he wiped it away, sniffing. He took a long shuddering breath and nodded to himself. “Thank you,” Dean said. With difficulty, he turned away, catching sight of the arch before ignoring it and motioning to Sam for him to follow.

“Come,” Dean said, “Let’s see if the head librarian is awake.”

“Dean, what was-”

“Not now.”

The two of them walked in silence, heading up a large staircase that was carved into the mountain. Dean had never lived at the library, but he had frequented it a great deal during his last war. It had been a hive of knowledge and planning and training. Mages, dragon riders, mages who were dragon riders, and dragons, had all worked together to find a way to end the war for good and before the world could be destroyed.

It was, if Dean was being honest, strange to see it so quiet and not bustling with activity. In the past even at this late hour, there would have been mage librarians and scholars up reading into the wee hours, or playing cards and other games of chance. Some trying to impress each other with acts of magic or daring after one too many drinks. Metal buckets filled with sand were still stowed here and there.

Just as they crested into the next inner courtyard, Dean saw lantern light poking through the windows of one passageway, moving with its owner as they came towards them. A moment later an older, grizzled man, his dark hair and mustache flecked with gray, dressed in tawny and red mage robes, skin glinting in the lantern light appeared. 

“Rufus,” Dean greeted.

“Couldn’t you wait until morning, Dean? It’s damn past two in the morning!” Rufus grumped.

“Oh you, don’t need beauty sleep,” Dean said. He set down his roll and opened the pack he had been carrying. After a moment, he pulled out a stoppered blue glazed, clay bottle of whiskey and handed it to Rufus.

“At least you haven’t forgotten all social niceties,” Rufus said, taking the bottle and hefting it. Satisfied with the bottle of whiskey, he turned his attention to Sam. “And who might this be?”

“Prince Samuel Winchester, second of his name,” Sam said as if called up for a roll call.

Dean chuckled and shifted his baggage back onto his shoulders.

“Ah, Master Singer sent a bird saying you would be here soon, but where is Master Singer?” Rufus looked imploringly between the two of them.

Dean shared a dark look with Sam and then cleared his throat. “Bunkah and the whole kingdom is under attack from King Lucifer Morningstar. He took the city by force some two nights past, calling for King John to abdicate the throne.”

“It was during my eighteenth birthday celebration; he wanted me to marry his daughter,” Sam added with a shudder.

“And Singer tasked me with getting Sam out of there.” Dean gritted his teeth for a second and then relaxed. “Morningstar has put us some kind of magical barrier, ward, or whatever, over the whole of Bunkah. And he has hundreds of ships anchored off the coast. I’ve never seen magic of his sort before.”

Rufus nodded. “So you thought you’d come here and see if you find something useful, hm?”

“Well, this is still the greatest library in the known world, is it not?” Dean asked.

Rufus chuckled and nodded again. “That it is. Come. Maybe we can all have a glass of this fine whiskey and start looking for what you might need in the morning.” Rufus turned and started heading the way he’d come. “I’m sure I can find serviceable quarters for you both.”

Dean followed after Rufus, Sam getting into step beside him. He knew Sam still had questions, but they could wait.


	6. Chapter 6

Two separate rooms were found for them, on opposite sides of a lonely hallway, and Rufus had left them to themselves once the promised whiskey had been drunk. It was only for a few hours of sleep, but as Sam tried to get comfortable in the bed, which was goose down and not some straw monstrosity, he just couldn’t rest. Speaking of their mission had brought all his anxieties to the surface, and he worried about Dean as well.

_Just what happened here, all those years ago? Why was that statue so important to Dean?_ Sam pondered as he lay on his back, completely awake.

He thought of Dean across the hall from him and wondered if the dragon had found sleep. Then, without planning it, Sam pushed his covers off, and pulled on the nightshirt he’d been given in case Rufus was walking the halls. He stepped across the cold flagstones to the door. Opening the latch, he pulled the door open and saw no sign of anyone, just the flickering candles in their sconces.

Sam stepped out into the hallway, closed his door, and then took the few steps to Dean’s door in front of him. He waited a moment and then knocked.

“Sam?” came Dean’s voice from the other side.

“May I come in?” Sam asked.

“It’s unlatched,” Dean said.

Taking that as a yes, Sam pushed the door inwards and stepped in. He set the latch and stalked over to Dean’s bed. The room was the same as Sam’s, simple and neat. A writing desk on one side with a dark chair. An empty fireplace. Generous bed. Simple wash basin and things of that ilk. Dean’s shutters were open, and moonlight spilled into the room, showing Sam that Dean was at least topless in bed.

“I can’t sleep,” Sam said.

“Neither can I.” Dean’s eyes found his, glittering in the low light. He patted the bed beside him. So Sam walked over and sat down beside Dean, pulling his feet off the floor and placing arms on his knees. He gave himself a hug.

“Dean, why are all those statues here?” he asked in a small voice.

Dean’s hand found Sam’s back and stroked gently. “They are… They’re not statues. They’re what’s left of the dragon riders,” Dean explained, voice thick.

“What’s left?”

“When we made… our final push in the Eveneed War, we… we needed to find a way into Purgatory. We searched and searched, until we found a spell that might work.” Dean’s hand stilled for a moment and then he continued to stroke Sam.

“The spell needed… well, souls, in order to power it. But because humans by themselves, no matter if they were mages, would struggle to survive in Purgatory… it was decided by the riders and many of the mages here, that they would sacrifice themselves to open a portal to Purgatory. And so they did.”

Dean gulped. Sam suspected that Dean was crying, but didn’t dare look backwards to see if he was.

“The spell to transfer their souls, their very being, to make the portal, left them as you saw them. Each and every one of them.” Dean left out a long slow breath. “That of course included my closest friend in all the whole world, my dragon rider, Benny.”

Gulping more air, Sam could feel Dean shaking as his hand rested on Sam’s back, no longer stroking. Saying nothing, Sam uncurled himself and stretched out beside Dean under the covers, pulling him on to his side, so that they faced each other.

“I’m so sorry,” Sam said, and leaned in, kissing away the salty tears from Dean’s cheeks. Dean’s arms wrapped around him and Dean tilted his head and kissed Sam, long and deep, mouth opening his. Then he pulled Sam’s nightshirt off.

Dean’s sobs were replaced with desperate grinds and bucks of his body, hands slipping down to Sam’s ass. Sam’s hands were equally roving and clinging, feeling all of Dean as their lengths filled and hardened between them. Each kiss washed away the taste of Dean’s tears, to be replaced with mint and sunshine.

Hands demanding and caressing, Sam’s fingers brushed over the swell of Dean’s ass, feeling the muscled curves, all firm and inviting. The covers over Dean’s ass felt damp to the backs of Sam’s hands, but Sam thought nothing of it, as a sweet smell like honeysuckle filled his nostrils. He was just keen to get with Dean’s idea of taking comfort in each other and forgetting. _Please, Dean, please_ , Sam begged without saying.

“Please,” Dean begged, echoing Sam’s thoughts, pulling Sam’s right hand deeper under the covers and placing it on his own leaking cock. It was long and hot, and pre-come made it slippery on the tip.

Sam could guess what Dean wanted, despite his inexperience in these things, and so he lined himself up and wrapped his hand tightly around Dean’s cock and began to stroke him. Dean kissed him breathless as he did, moaning into Sam’s mouth with such sounds that made Sam’s cock leak as it brushed against the space between Dean’s stomach and his thigh.

Pulling and twisting his hand in the way that Sam knew he personally liked, Dean’s breathing grew erratic. Sam broke their kiss and begged, “Please, Dean, please…”

And Dean shuddered around him as he came, hot stickiness coating both their stomachs as Dean let out a low, long moan. Sam shifted and his dick caught on Dean’s thigh, the drag making him shudder and buck. He needed to come, he wanted to come and he moaned.

“Ssh,” Dean hushed him. And then before Sam knew what was going on, Dean had him flat on the bed and was straddling Sam’s hips. “I want _you_ ,” Dean said as he poised above Sam’s leaking cock.

While Sam was reasonably sure that for two men to do this normally, more was involved before this moment (at least his lesson in the stable the year before had taught him), he deeply felt the need to claim Dean. Sam nodded.

“I want you,” Sam replied and without warning, Dean grabbed the base of Sam’s cock and pushed himself down onto Sam. Dean was hot and surprisingly wet, but Sam said nothing of it, instead letting out a low cry as his tight inviting heat engulfed him.

“Gods!” Sam cried as Dean stayed seated, breathing heavily above him. He was buried inside of Dean to the hilt, and all he wanted to do was push off the bed and pound into his willing body. To take and be satiated.

Looking over every perfectly toned muscle, the softness of Dean’s hair and the glimmering fire in his eyes, Sam knew that it was more than lust he felt for this being. But then Dean rose up on his knees, cock hardening as he did, and then his muscular thighs slammed him back down. The bed shook and Sam let out a surprised cry as Dean worked him. Falling forwards, Dean placed his hands either side of Sam’s head and leaned in to kiss him as he worked Sam, pushing him deep.

“Gods, alright, you were… made for me…” Dean said breathlessly, and kissed him, working Sam like his life depended on it. His grinding jerks were desperate as he fucked down on Sam, and then lifted up, over and over for what felt like an eternity to Sam, but was probably mere minutes.

Engulfed by Dean, his thighs working faster and faster, Sam clung onto him for dear life and kissed him, shouting into Dean’s mouth as he came. He filled Dean, leaving an even greater mess between his legs. Above him, Dean shuddered and swore, his own release spilling onto their stomachs again.

For a brief moment, Sam was glad Rufus’s rooms were far away from their own, as Dean breathed heavily on top of him. Despite the mess all around and on them, Dean just slid off of Sam and insisted on pulling Sam into his arms. Sam was too tired to protest and allowed Dean and sleep to take him.

***

“You’re a fool, dragon,” Rufus informed him over a bowl of oatmeal.

The two of them sat alone in the small hall, eating breakfast at a simple long teak table. Sam had wandered off to the main library some time before, to start researching the barrier around Bunkah. Dean had been late to breakfast and so was playing catch up—he fully intended to help Sam search for answers.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Dean shoveled a spoonful of honey laced porridge into his mouth.

Rufus rolled his eyes and played with the cup of tea between resting his hands. “You two weren’t _that_ quiet, Dean.”

Cheeks reddening, Dean refused to look the old mage in the eye.

“He’s a prince, Dean! He has responsibilities, to the throne and to his kingdom! They probably have some pretty little princess or baroness or something already picked out for him.”

Dean shoved another spoonful of porridge into his mouth.

“Dammit, Dean. It’s been centuries since a dragon has joined a human in such… capacity. Centuries, Dean.”

“I heard you.”

“Did you?” Rufus snarled across the table.

Dean dropped his spoon in his bowl and pushed away from the table. He stood up and paced away from Rufus, giving them distance before he turned and finally looked at the mage.

“It’s none of your business.” Dean crossed his arms over his chest.

“It is. Master Singer is a dear friend of mine. Without him here, it’s up to me to look out for his interests. And if that means-”

“Sam’s of age. I don’t see the problem here,” Dean spat back.

Rufus stood up from the table, tea forgotten and stalked over to Dean. He pressed a finger to Dean’s chest, no fear of what Dean might do. There was anger in Rufus’s eyes, but fear and concern as well.

“Does he really know anything of dragons, hm? Know that you’ll stay much like this as he grows old and… he’ll die and you’ll be left, all alone, Dean.” Rufus shook his head and took a step back, finger leaving Dean’s chest. Of course, if Sam stayed forever in a place like the Library of Elders, he could live beyond his years without aging, but Dean knew the cost placed on Rufus for having such a fate—to never leave.

“At least I can give him heirs,” Dean murmured.

Rufus’s anger fled at that and he met Dean’s eyes, a knowing smile crinckling his face. “You’ve known each other, what, less than three days, and you’re talking children?” Rufus slapped him on the shoulder. “You’ve got it bad, dragon.”

“Yeah, well, in case you forgot, dragons are why there’s mages in the first place. It’s us that gave you humans the powers to transform the elements and command aether.”

Rufus harrumphed and turned to head back to his seat. He sat down and picked up his tea. Dean went back to his seat and retrieved his porridge. The two of them continued their breakfast in silence. Once his porridge was finished, Dean started to clear away his things, but Rufus waved him away.

“I’ll clear this up. You go help that paramour of yours,” Rufus teased.

Dean grumbled a thank you, cheeks warming again.

“You know Benny would want you to finally be happy, right?” Rufus called just as Dean reached a doorway out of the hall.

Dean stopped and turned back to Rufus. “You’ve changed your tune.”

“I’m just saying.”

“I know.” Dean headed out of the small hall and towards the main library.

Stepping through the library’s doors, Dean looked up as the space opened up, the ceiling rising high above him and into darkness. Thousands of shelves of books and scrolls towered ahead of him. Thinking of Benny made his heart ache, because until the day he had sacrificed himself, Benny had been Dean’s only friend. For centuries since, Dean had been alone.

Rolling his shoulders, Dean cracked his neck and promised himself to stop thinking about the past so much. He had a kingdom to help save. And a prince who might he might be in love with and who may also be in love with him—though it was too early for Dean to tell. _Let’s just focus on saving a kingdom, huh?_


	7. Chapter 7

Sam flipped to the next page and continued whispering as he read.

“‘Of note is the ability of dragons to flex in their reproductive needs. With human mates of any gender available to them, they can-’”

“Hey, whatcha reading there?” Dean called.

Sam slammed shut the fifth book he’d found on dragons and quickly stumbled to his feet, face reddening. He didn’t know how his expression read, but Dean quirked an eyebrow at him as he walked forwards and came close enough to see the gilded lettering on the spines on the books and then their covers.

“Huh, just some light reading?” Dean asked nervously.

Sam gulped. “Uh… Uh…” He tried to find something, anything to say. “I was… curious?” he hazarded. _Well, at least I know my parents can’t object on the grounds we can’t produce heirs_ , Sam thought as his stomach twisted itself into knots.

Dean nodded, but didn’t say any more. Instead he waved a hand at a different pile of books to Sam’s left, three titles on magical wards and barriers.

“Oh, right. The barrier. So, I think I found a way we could crack it.” Sam grabbed the top book and opened it up on the relevant page. “So, get this. The pink hue of the whole thing actually means that it’s this really obscure branch of-”

“Prince, time’s a wastin’. Get to the point,” Dean interrupted.

“Right, well, there’s a couple of ways to tackle this. Soul magic.” Sam watched Dean carefully and the dragon shivered. So that was definitely a no, considering the memories in the courtyard.

“Okay, we could try this one spell where I bathe in unicorn blood and then say a few choice words, do some kind of dance-”

“I’m going to stop you there,” Dean said. “Unicorns have been extinct since the Eveneed War. What’s the third option?”

Sam flipped through a few more pages. “Our third option is to ‘concentrate raw force on a small section’ and ‘do so until an entryway is possible or the barrier ceases to be’. Worth noting that the footnotes suggest that none of these methods are guaranteed.”

“Lemme see,” Dean asked, holding his hand out for the book. Sam passed it over and waited as Dean read.

“You read High-Rodhaus?” Dean queried with a surprised glance.

Sam looked down at the cold, stony floor and gave a small shrug. Embarrassment, he didn’t know from where, crawled all over him. “Master Singer insists that you learn as many tongues as you can.”

“Right,” Dean mumbled.

A moment later, the book was snapped closed. “Well,” Dean started, and Sam looked up from the floor, “Raw force it is.”

“But I don’t have that level of talent yet,” Sam pointed out.

Dean gave Sam a look that said several things, the top one being “who do you think you’re talking to?” And Sam winced as he realized that Dean didn’t intend for Sam to be the one to try and rip a hole in the barrier.

“Dragon, remember?” Dean’s eyes flicked towards all the dragon books and then back to Sam. “I mean, you’ve been doing some research, right?” Dean took a couple of steps forward and pinned Sam against the shelves beside him.

“Research?” Sam asked, brain going blank at their closeness.

“Yeah, research.” Dean’s eyes slid from Sam’s, focusing on his mouth and then Dean leaned in and kissed Sam.

Heat and longing flared inside of Sam, his toes practically curling in his boots. After a minute of gentle kissing, Dean pulled back and sighed.

“Let’s be honest, Sam, I don’t know what’s going to happen when we get to Bunkah, but uh… if we survive, let’s see where things go?” Dean leaned his forehead against Sam’s.

Sam’s right hand found Dean’s waist. “If you’re sure?”

“Yes.”

Sam kissed Dean and then eased him away with a light push from his hand. “So… you’re going to what—burn a hole through the barrier?” Sam asked.

“Pretty much. But, we’ll need to take a detour to the coast before I do.”

“The ships?”

“Bingo.”

Sam smiled and felt, for the first time in over two days, that maybe they had a real chance.

“Now that’s decided, we better put these books back. Don’t want to make Rufus cranky,” Dean said, pulling away and starting to pile books into his arms.

“There’s a time when Rufus isn’t cranky?” Sam asked in mock surprise.

“Usually when he’s had a whole bottle to himself.”

It took some time, but they managed to get the books stacked back where they were meant to be, except the one book that seemed to have their answer. Sam felt anticipation slowly churning inside of him as they went to find Rufus and tell him what they found.

“You’re going to burn your way through it?” Rufus said, eyes scanning the page where they’d found their solution. The three of them had gathered in Rufus’s solarium, where he preferred to do his scribing work. Sunshine bathed them in golden light, while the flowers and plants that surrounded them gave the space a softness that was missing from much of the Library of Elders.

The book’s title in High-Rodhaus roughly translated to _A Practical Exploration of the Magicks of Lower-Else_ , a title which Sam hardly understood. But a series of footnotes in other books had led him to the book. Sam had only heard of the Lower-Else in some of his lessons with Master Singer, but he did know that it was a place with its branch of magic originating in what was Morningstar’s kingdom some thousand years previous.

“That’s the plan,” Dean said. “I’ll be sure to set Morningstar’s whole fleet on fire while we’re heading over.”

“Once we’re in, we’ll storm the castle and take it back,” Sam added.

Rufus gave the two of them an appraising look. Eyes glancing between them several times before returning to the spell book. “Morningstar, from what I recall of Master Singer’s briefings, is a formidable foe. You’ll need to do more than just storm the castle.”

Getting up from his writing desk, Rufus shuffled over to a bureau and pulled open a drawer. Sam and Dean waited and then Rufus gave a little “aha” as he spun around on the spot, a golden amulet in his hand.

“Take this,” Rufus offered the amulet to Sam.

Hesitant, Sam took the offered amulet and held it in his hand. It was surprisingly heavy—a huge glob of amber imprisoned in a golden nest. The chain it was attached to was half the weight. As Sam stared into the amber, he could see the glassy substance begin to swirl and twist, as if under the influence of invisible currents.

“What is it?” Dean asked as he stared at Sam’s hand.

“The Token of Kuhc.”

The swirling mass of amber formed into the shape of a golden face with horns, trapped in the amber, then began to dissolve again. With some difficulty, Sam drew his gaze away from it and faced Rufus.

“What does it do?” Sam asked.

“Nullifies all magic when worn. Any emanating from the wearer and being cast against the wearer.” Rufus rubbed his hands together. “Should enable you to get close enough once the barrier is down.”

Sam looked at the amulet doubtfully, but kept hold of it.

The conversation continued for a brief while as the three of them discussed what little plan Dean and Sam could bring together. Destroying the ships, taking out the barrier and then storming the castle second the barrier was down—after all, they weren’t going to have much time between the barrier breaking and King Lucifer Morningstar realizing that something was wrong.

***

Soaring up into the sky, the Library of Elders’ hidden location quickly disappearing, Dean tried to pull his thoughts in order. He had no idea what Sam was thinking as he clung to the saddle, but Dean knew that once this was over, it would be hard for him to just head back to his cottage in the mountains. He really did want to see where their path might lead them.

In some ways the flight back towards the coast near Bunkah seemed shorter, but after an afternoon of flying he and Sam were once outside Dean’s cottage and getting ready to go to war, (at least, that’s how it felt). Evening had fallen and the ships some leagues away didn’t know what was about to hit them.

Tension and anticipation pulsed through Dean as he went around the cottage, gathering herbs and a few other things that he could turn into a tonic to help stoke his fire. He hadn’t mentioned to Sam that there was one final ingredient he did need. How to ask for a drop of someone’s blood wasn’t exactly a normal conversation starter.

While Dean didn’t doubt his ability to make fire, he did perhaps doubt it after laying waste to hundreds of ships at sea. Sat at his kitchen table, he looked across the room at Sam, who was trying on some of Dean’s other clothes. The red tunic he had on was a little short in the arms for Sam, but it fitted his frame pleasingly and Dean had to look away as he marshaled his thoughts together.

“Sam, I need your help with this tonic,” Dean stated in a flat voice.

“Oh sure. Master Singer always said my potions-”

“I need a drop of your blood.”

Sam padded over, legs and feet bare, the tunic covering half of his thighs and leaving little to Dean’s imagination. Keeping his calm, Dean looked up to Sam and pointed at the bronze bowl filled with all the other ingredients.

“What does this tonic do?” Sam asked, voice careful.

Dean licked his lips and straightened up in his seat. “It’ll rejuvenate my flames, so that I can attack the barrier after taking care of the ships.”

“Oh.”

“I need the blood of a mage to finish this. Just a drop will do,” Dean said huskily.

A frown creased Sam’s forehead and he brushed several strands of hair back from his face. He looked into the contents of the bowl. “A drop of my blood.”

It wasn’t a question, so Dean stayed quiet as Sam seemed to think things over. Sam walked around the table a few times and Dean watched him as he thought.

“I’ll do it,” Sam eventually declared.

Dean stood up and picked up a small knife he had on the table. The silver blade and its bone handle were cool in his hand. Sam stepped over to him and held his right palm out and Dean took it into his left.

“Thank you,” Dean said and then pressed the tip of the knife to the end of Sam’s forefinger. A bead of blood welled up straight away, Sam making no sound of discomfort. Placing Sam’s hand over the bowl, Dean lightly squeezed Sam’s finger and a single drop of blood dripped from Sam’s finger into the bowl.

Dean passed Sam a cloth to hold to his bleeding finger, and then picked up the bowl and swooshed the ingredients around. The blood made the various parts glow and suffuse with untold power. When he was satisfied, he found a metal funnel and poured the tonic into a waiting glass bottle.

“That should do it,” Dean said.

Sam, still less than half dressed, watched Dean. “I can look after it until you need it,” Sam offered.

“Appreciated. But you need to get dressed first.”

Sam grinned, but didn’t do anything other than pad back over to the bed and the pile of clothes he had been rooting through. Dean left him to it as he went over again and again what they had planned and what he knew of Bunkah. It made sense to attack the barrier in a section of the city close to the castle.

He thought on the amulet Rufus had given Sam and got up from the table. Stalking over to the bed, he shot a thankful glance at Sam’s naked rear and then pulled a tan roll wrapped with cord from out under the bed. It contained Benny’s sword. Still as bright and shiny as the day it was forged.

Less than an hour later, they were ready to fly.


	8. Chapter 8

Smoke stung Sam’s nose as he and Dean flew over the burning wreckage of Morningstar’s ships. Benny’s borrowed sword slung from his left hip, the amulet in a pocket, and Dean’s vial pocketed safely by his chest, Sam couldn’t quite believe what his life had become in such a short amount of time.

He prayed to the gods that his parents and friends, the servants, and all the people of Bunkah, were still alive. But even Sam knew that bloodshed would have been too easy to come by for those looking to find their own way out or those considered a threat by King Lucifer. The ships had moved from their earlier position not far from Dean’s home and had centered themselves on the port that served Bunkah, but just out of reach of the protection afforded the barrier.

Sam could see beneath the pink haze, troops moving in alarm, heading towards the waterfront as the ships burned and sunk down into the deep waters. He held on as Dean headed towards the castle and a section of barrier that once down would give them immediate access.

They landed on a hill, the long grass there going past Sam’s knees. Ahead of them, the barrier shimmered, its pinkness in the light of the city’s torches making it look like gleaming sugar candy. Sam climbed down off Dean’s back more gracefully than he had the first time he’d flown on him. Dean turned to Sam, still a dragon, scales glinting in the fire that was making the sky glow.

Pulling out the vial of tonic Dean had made, Sam waited for Dean to open his jaws. As Dean did, Sam tried not to freak out at the size of Dean’s teeth, which were half the length of Sam’s arms. He uncorked the tonic vial and poured the contents into Dean’s mouth. Once the vial was empty, Sam quickly scrambled out of the way and got some distance between him and Dean.

Dean shuddered and then spewed forth a hot plume of flame.

Magic crackled in the air and Sam readied himself as he watched through half closed eyes, unsheathing Benny’s sword. He hoped that his limited drilling over the years had prepared him enough for what laid ahead.

As the air sizzled from the flames, Sam could see the barrier weakening under Dean’s onslaught. At the same time, it was like the see-through pink structure was expanding, like a bubble in pond water. Understanding Dean was a dragon and could fly had been one thing, but seeing his destructive potential unleashed was something else.

The barrier popped and the sound of a warring city crashed into Sam’s ears.

***

Human again, Dean followed Sam through the chaos as the people of Bunkah overwhelmed their captives, emboldened by the demise of the barrier and the fleet. The castle gates, once they got there, were wide open and Sam led the way through the main courtyard and to the main entrance.

Dean watched as Sam, who had yet to put on the amulet from Rufus, used quick bursts of force to send Morningstar’s troops flying across the courtyard, sending them plummeting over parapets and walls. They needed to move fast if they were going to reach King Morningstar in time and stop him from doing any further damage. Dean hoped they were not too late.

Skirmishing through the hallways of the castle once inside, Dean had to stop Sam before they went into the main hall.

“The amulet!” Dean hissed as a pair of Morningstar’s troops groaned behind them.

He watched as Sam slipped it on, just as the main hall’s mighty doors were pulled wide open.

***

No one greeted them as they walked into the hall. Sam glanced around, seeing all the guests from his Birthday in various levels of dishevelment, but still alive. _No doubt Lucifer wanted them to take the knee, seeing as they were all conveniently here_ , Sam thought darkly as he looked for any sign of King Morningstar or even his parents.

Princess Lilith waltzed up to them, stopping ten foot ahead of Sam and Dean.

“Oh, you’ve returned,” Lilith simpered, eyes edged with hatred.

“Where’s your father?” Sam asked as politely as he could muster.

Instead of speaking, Lilith flung her hand out in front of herself, slapping the air and sending Dean flying backwards. Sam turned as Dean thumped into a pillar and dropped to the ground, winded.

Lilith seemed surprised that her magic had not affected Sam.

“I’ll ask again,” Sam said, taking a step forward. “Where is your father?”

“You won’t win,” Lilith hissed.

“Your ships are burned. The barrier’s down… Where is King Lucifer?” Sam asked.

Lilith repeated the movement of her hand, but nothing happened to Sam. He took some degree of pity on her, but then she turned and ran.

Sam chased after her, Dean noisily on his heels as Lilith’s spell failed.

***

“Stop running!” Dean called ahead of them, as he ran beside Sam damn down goodness knew which hallway in the castle. Until Sam’s Birthday, he’d never been inside the castle of Bunkah, its construction having taken place only in the past three hundred years.

Lilith didn’t let up though and instead pounded against the flagstones as she fled or, more likely, led them into a trap. As the hallway narrowed further and the number of doors off of it decreased, Dean stopped running as Lilith barreled into a large room ahead of them, its yawning oak doors open and then slammed shut as she entered.

Sam went smack into Dean’s back and staggered, forcing Dean to turn around and catch the prince before he fell flat on his ass.

“So graceful,” Dean joked.

Sam gave him a look that promised retribution once they had finished with their current troubles.

“It’s a trap,” Dean said as the two of them slowly walked up to the closed doors. Dean placed a hand on the wood and reached out beyond it, feeling the tingle of magic tangling with his senses. “Morningstar or whoever has got some kind of spell rigged behind here.”

Glancing down at the amulet resting on his chest, Sam looked toward the doors and seemed to slowly come to a decision. “I must go in first.”

Dean didn’t like the idea of Sam heading into danger before Dean had had the chance to limit the potential lethality in there. “How about I go in first and surprise them?”

“Surprise them?” Sam asked in an unsure voice, truly showing how young he was with the worry he couldn’t keep from it.

“It’s tight in here, but once I poke my head in…”

“You could transform into a dragon?”

“Enough of a distraction, I’m sure, for you to take care of any of Morningstar’s forces,” Dean added.

Sam nodded and motioned toward the doors.

***

A shimmering haze formed around Dean’s being and Sam watched, enraptured, as Dean’s human form melted away and started reforming into the massive muscles, scales and wings of his dragon self as he ran forward and smashed down the doors, a full dragon once he was inside the room. Sam was close at his heels, dodging Dean’s tail, as he sprinted in after him, sword ready.

“WHAT IN THE NAME OF THE GODS?!” King Lucifer Morningstar bellowed as he and Lilith cringed away from Dean’s form.

They were in one of the castle’s prayer rooms. The statues to the gods had been upturned and smashed in some cases, which made Sam’s blood boil. In one alcove, his parents cowered, his mother protectively stood over the prone form of his father who was at least awake.

Dean lunged forward and Lucifer and Lilith only just managed to dodge out of the way, stumbling nearer to Sam. Readying his sword, Sam stood in their path and Lucifer and Lilith came to a stop in front of him, their faces contorted between rage and fear.

“I see that my parents are alive, I thank you,” Sam said in a cool, icy voice. “But I can’t let this stand.”

“Pfft, and what exactly do you think you can do to stop me?” Lucifer asked and then clicked his fingers.

A spell rippled through the room, like a great net being pulled in on all sides, sprung by the press of tension. Dean snarled and gave a roar as he was pulled up into a magical net made of pink shimmering light. He transformed back to his human self and Sam felt his anger mount higher.

But Lucifer looked surprised when Sam was not affected.

Rather than banter further with the man who had attempted to destroy his kingdom, Sam stepped forward as Lucifer and Lilith again tried with their magic and sliced his sword across Lucifer’s neck. The blade cut through Lucifer’s flesh like a hot knife through butter and cleanly rendered Lucifer’s head from his neck, splashing blood over Lilith, and leaving it to fall to the floor and roll where it stopped at Sam’s feet. Lucifer’s mouth was open, the words of a failed spell on his lips.

Sam turned his attention to Lilith and pointed his sword at her throat. “Undo the spell holding Dean.”

Lilith nodded and turned to the enchanted netting, hands waving and words falling from her mouth. A few seconds later Dean fell from the air, twisting like a cat to land perfectly on his feet.

“Dean, please keep our prisoner company,” Sam asked as he kept his sword trained on Lilith.

A few long steps took Dean into Lilith’s space and Dean pulled her hands tight against her back, holding them in one hand. Sam turned and removed his amulet, then clicked his own fingers and rendered Lilith speechless with a simple spell.

Once that was done, Sam allowed himself to finally act like the worried son he was and he rushed over to his parents’ side.

“Samuel!” Queen Mary cried in relief, hands reaching out to him.

Sam dropped to his knees and hugged his parents, glad that they were safe if a little worse for wear.


	9. Epilogue

Bunkah’s streets were fit to bursting with subjects and well wishers who had journeyed from neighboring kingdoms. The festive mood and late summer heat meant those dealing in iced drinks were doing a roaring trade, with the city’s few mages making a good living from ice spells for the first time in a century.

Flowers adorned the walls and windows of many a dwelling or business. The temples were open and braziers burned with the sweet scents of sandalwood and cinnamon incense, to symbolize the soon to be joining of two souls.

Never did anyone recall such a highly anticipated joining of two people. It was, without a doubt, the wedding of several lifetimes.

As Sam looked down from the balcony of his rooms, and towards the sounds of the city, he fidgeted in his wedding robes, which Garth had finished fastening him into a few minutes earlier. He would still be a prince after this day, but his parents would be proud that their line would continue, strengthened by Dean.

Behind Sam came a polite cough and he turned to see his “best man” had joined him in his chambers. Though his best man was in fact Lady Bradbury—an unconventional choice to be sure and one that drew a few disconcerted comments from the royal household until Charlie had been discovered in the bed of Lady Gilda.

“They’re waiting for you,” Charlie said.

It had been a manic few months as the city and kingdom had begun righting itself after Morningstar’s attempts to destroy everything. Sam had been part of a delegation with several other representatives from other kingdoms who had gone to the Morningstar’s kingdom and broken it up to leave it in the hands of rulers who were kinder and fairer than what the common folk had endured before. All through the trip, Dean had been at Sam’s side, while Lilith was contained in a mage proof dungeon.

“I know,” Sam said as he faced her, butterflies in his stomach. He knew he wasn’t going into the unknown, Dean and he had made sure of that many a time, much to the chagrin of a few priests, but to be bound together before the gods was a big step in anyone’s life. _I just hope I am worthy of such a bond._

“Oh, now you do not get to make such a sad face, Sam,” Charlie declared. “You two are perfect for each other.”

“You’re right.” Sam nodded.

The two of them left Sam’s chambers and the royal guard formed around Sam as he made his way through the castle, Master Singer joining his entourage and a few others who had known him in his life. Such was the way their wedding processions for royalty and common folk were—you walked to your beloved with those who had brought you together and would be by both your sides as you started your new lives as one.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading! Kudos and comments are appreciated.
> 
> Please don't forget to check out [twobrothersfuckingeachother amazing art](https://twobrothersfuckingeachother.tumblr.com/post/632603597996212224/art-post-for-hitthebooksposts-wincest-big-bang).
> 
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